


Indistinct

by kaydeefalls



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Community: contrelamontre, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-05
Updated: 2003-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaydeefalls/pseuds/kaydeefalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elijah is sometimes Frodo and Sean is sometimes Sam. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indistinct

**Author's Note:**

> Improv fic for ContreLaMontre. Addiction. 45 minute limit, finished in 40.

There is a line drawn somewhere. It divides fiction from reality, characters from people, Middle Earth from New Zealand. Not a line you could see or touch. But it's there.

Elijah sometimes forgets about that line. Well, not forgets, not exactly; but he certainly has to remind himself. Line. Distinction. Yes. It's there.

Emyn Muil, and the rocks are sharp and the air is a bit too cold. They've been separated from the rest of the Fellowship, from the other hobbits, and Frodo is lonely. No, not Frodo. Elijah. Right. But at least he still has his Sean. Sam. Sean.

Maybe if he'd gotten a little more sleep the night before, it wouldn't be so bad.

A hand on the shoulder, Sam's rough-soft accent in his ear. Dialogue. Good, Elijah, let's work on that. Scene. Shot. Speaking.

Warmth. That's what Sam is all about. Warmth and comfort and a friendly face. Warmth in his strange-familiar voice, in his hazel-brown eyes. Frodo could look at him forever, just sit and listen to him talk.

So could Elijah.

Warmth is Sean, too. When the wind picks up and the sky gets darker and darker, and Peter's grumbling about finishing the shoot and weather. Warmth is Sean's arm around his shoulders between takes, Sean's body pressed against his, the expression in those same hazel-brown eyes (but a different accent when he speaks, and those lines aren't scripted).

Sometimes, Elijah forgets that he's an actor. He stops acting and starts living. Peter loves those moments. He would probably start a religion based around them if he could, a Frodo-and-Sam-together-my-God-that's-perfect worship group. Well, maybe not, but he's certainly happy with them.

Elijah hates when that happens. Not the moments themselves (they come so easily and unnoticeably, sneaking up on him when he least expects them, and it's always such a relief to just BE Frodo), but then Peter calls "Cut, excellent, let's print that!" and Elijah is jammed back into his own body. Sam grins and becomes Sean, and Elijah wants to curl up in a ball or crawl into himself or fall through an imaginary hole in the ground and vanish forever. He imagines it's like how withdrawal must feel, the hollow needing somewhere deep inside, and maybe that's why he (Elijah) is afraid to quit smoking his clove cigarettes and maybe that's why he (Frodo) can't part with the Ring. That hollowness.

Sean looks at him, questioning, and Elijah almost grasps the prop Ring around his neck for reassurance. Not now, Sam. Sean. Sam. You can't help me now.

It's not that Sam is standoffish, it's just that he isn't always sure how to offer comfort, or if it will be welcomed. A hand on the shoulder. An arm around the shoulders. They're all the same. Frodo appreciates them, wants to ask for more but holds back. Elijah turns away.

There is a line drawn somewhere, and sometimes it blurs. Elijah hates that. Both the line and the blurring. There should either be one or the other, but he sometimes forgets about the line. And then it blurs. Those are the moments he lives for, and he hates them.

He doesn't want to be Frodo, not really. Doesn't want the Ring or Mount Doom. Just Sam.

Who isn't Sean.

So Elijah turns away.


End file.
